Ways A Way Can Make You Pay
by Bec Kuhlmann
Summary: The ghosts of a biology class; each student vicim of murder. A friendship made over light sabres. A mental institution; the first spark of revenge. A dead girl in red and black; her diary full of secrets. Lyrics full of truth; drugs with terrifying side effects. These were the things Mike Dirnt knew; these were the facts. But he needed to know more.
1. ¡IMPORTANT!

~Deathwalker~

-Noun-

The spirit of a deceased person that lingers on earth before either ascending to Heaven or descending to Hell. The spirit simulates it's own death once before disappearing, meaning they replay their deaths physically; only without the presence of blood or sound; they only visually simulate it. Furthermore, only a select few people have the ability to see Deathwalkers, these people are classified by the name 'Seers'. Even fewer people have the ability to call a Deathwalker back from the afterlife after they have left the Earth once. These people can be called 'Conjurers'. Seers and/or Conjurers' abilities may vary, depending on the genetics and physical strenth of the person. For instance, some may have the ability to See or Conjure Deathwalkers by choice, but a more powerful ability may mean a person may See or Conjure a Deathwalker unintentionally and without consent. Some people have the power to See or Conjure both by choice and unintentionally; and the ability to both See and Conjure in one person is almost unheard of. There is said to be drug-like substance that numbs the effects of abilities, however this has not been confirmed.


	2. Part 1 - Chapter 1

**_- PART I - So Long & Goodnight_**

_~ New Jersey, 1992 ~_

The sixteen year old boy stood stoically in front of the class who were all scribbling to complete last minute homework tasks they should have done the night earlier, before the teacher came in.

None of them knew the boy had locked the door behind him using a master key he had stolen the previous day. The other students needn't have worried.

He reflected on his day so far. He remembered the black cloud that had blocked the sun from shining it's blinding, sickly rays over all of New Jersey. He remembered thinking after seeing this that maybe today may not be so bad after all.

And he was right in a way. It hadn't been so bad. It had been quite the day, actually. In music class, a band which he had never heard of had come and performed a few of their songs on the make-shift stage that was always set up in the music room. A lot of the other kids had heard of them, the boy noted whilst he was standing aside from the mosh, for they were all singing the words and bouncing around in one violent huddle of teenagers.

Other teenagers and bouncing around were not really his forte.

The boy enjoyed the music, however, but not because it's punk sound was good for banging around to. He noticed the words had real meaning, something he had failed to notice or experience when he listened to, say, the Sex Pistols, or most of Metallica. He could relate to them almost too well, and that scared him because there were not many things in the world that he _could_ relate to.

And then, of course, the day was also okay because it was dark outside all morning, not an ounce of glare in the sky.

The boy had never liked the brightness.

And then he remembered why he was standing up here, in front of the chemistry class that had always ignored him. Some of his happiness disappeared to be replaced with anxiety. He felt to his side pocket, what lied there beneath the denim of his skinny jeans reminded him of his idea. The idea had struck him just after he noticed the clouds covering the sun that morning. Then, it had seemed like such a good idea.

Now he wasn't so sure.

But when he gazed over the room and realised his two friends weren't even bothering to look at him, not even Helena, he became angry enough to take that step. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat in what he hoped would be a loud enough way. He had practiced this speech in the bus, whispering it over and over to the invisible person in the seat beside him. Now he had it memorised and was confident enough to say it with emotion.

But when he looked at the class, they were still not paying attention to him. The boy panicked. Should he just sit down? Surely that was the better option. But there was a voice in his head telling him to stay up. To make them all pay for what they have done to him since God knows when.

Now inside of his stomach boiled a rage he had never felt before. It seemed to set his body on fire, and he had to blink a few times to clear his head enough to get everyone's attention.

This time, he screamed. "LISTEN TO ME!"

He could have a powerful voice if he wanted to. His grandmother's singing lessons must have paid off at least a little.

Everyone in the class stopped writing and looked up at the boy, eyes wide and surprised.

He took what was inside his pocked out, and there were a few gasps. The boy didn't know if he liked it or not; their fear. But he fiddled with it for a moment, making sure it was ready. He couldn't back down now. So instead he began reciting his carefully practised speech, letting every syllable pass over his tongue in a voice that was slick, cold and confident.

If his voice could be like that, surely he could as well.

"And you notice me now. Now that you are all about to die, you all stare. You stare because I hold your fate. Your own fate is the only fate you seem to care about, am I right? Was _I_ not worth your time every other day? Not worth the movement of your necks to give a nod of acknowledgement each morning? Was that idea too much of a strain for all of you? That seems funny to me to me since you are now all rigid, every muscle in your body is switched on and alert. What a shame you'll never get to feel relaxation ever again."

The saddest thing about that last statement was that half the class visibly slumped - relaxed - in their seats once the boy had said that, so just to prove him wrong.

It did not stop their terrified faces however. Each student was looking at him now with identical expressions of horrified panic, and he almost slumped under the the weight of the attention he was receiving. He didn't get treatment like this from even his parents. They were always too interested in their precious little Mikey.

The attention he liked. He should do this more often.

But the most terrified faces were of his friends. Ray's chestnut afro made him the easiest in the class to spot on any day. And today the boy up the front of the classroom had his eyes peeled for such a hairstyle and stubble covered face. Next to Ray sat Helena. Beautiful Helena, who was in a relationship with his dear younger brother. He would have her if he could, but when would that have ever happened? Mikey was tall, lean, pop-culture educated and funny. The boy up the front was both amused and appalled that the only way to catch people's attention was like this.

"I hate all of you." he said flatly, getting to the point.

He raised the revolver to a random girl, who just so happened to be sitting in the front row on the left hand side. He may as well do this in rows. It may get jumbled up anyway when they will all most likely start scrambling for the door he previously locked in an attempt to escape.

The girl squeezed her eyes shut.

The boy breathed in.

He breathed out.

He tried not to cry.

He tried not to look at the faces of Ray or Helena. They would make him crumble.

How would he be able to do it to them without falling in a heap?

He could, it was worth it.

He could not believe he was about to do this. What he had only dreamed about since Middle School.

Since he auditioned for the part of Peter Pan on his first day and immediately got the part.

Smooth moves. What a way to fit in.

That mistake still followed him, it fucked him up.

And that's why he was here now.

He could have made friends, but instead he went in a fucking musical.

And now he was about to ruin his life, and so many others as well.

Should he go through?

Should he go back to his seat?

No.

He had come this far. It was expected of him now.

"So long and goodnight." he whispered, and fired the bullet straight into the girl's skull.

There was a moment where the classroom seemed to stand still. There was a feeling that was rapidly growing in the pit of the boy's stomach that felt simply incredible. It was like nothing else, it's what he imagined sex to feel like. He let the feeling overwhelm him until his insides felt like they were swimming in it. He could do nothing but crack a smile, give a laugh, and look up a the classroom, grinning broadly.

Ray was the first to yell out in panic; and that signalled the uproar.

The class rushed to the door in a frenzy, kicking and growling at each other to try and escape the room. They trampled over each other, and clawed and scratched each other in the attempt to save themselves.

It was just as the boy had said. They were all selfish.

Just as he was for doing a thing such as this.

But he found he didn't care.

The boy tried to aim at the student's heads. It was harder than it was in his fantasies, and it took some time to turn the mob of terrified kids into a pile of unmoving ones. Their bodies were all still and rigid, but all in desperate positions, forever scrambling to get out of the classroom, plagued by the terrible presence of this hellish boy.

The feeling in his body raged all the while, and that's what kept him going. It was only after he took the final shot did it gradually begin to diminish.

The boy turned on his heel to face the desks once again, where no one was sitting, aside from the girl in the front row on the left hand side. That was expected. But, what was not so expected, were the two figures huddled together in the back corner of the classroom. They were both clinging onto each other and shivering violently.

The boy placed the gun on the front-left girl's desk and approached them, a solemn expression on his face. He wanted to join their embrace and warm them, but he felt cold.

He felt empty.

The wonderful feeling had flushed away, and it had taken a little of his soul along with it.

"I…." he began, but Ray looked up at him with tears in his big, droopy eyes.

"Why?" he asked, his breathy voice hoarse with clogged tears.

"I hated them." the boy said yet again. "And I know they hated me."

Ray shook his head, and tried desperately not to look at the pile of corpses by the door. "I don't understand." he said shakily. "You tell them they are selfish. But maybe you're the one that is. You didn't think of the lives they had. You just shot without thinking. And you didn't notice Helena and I standing in the corner together. We would be the same as the rest if we had run with them."

The boy closed his eyes for a moment, allowing a layer of moisture to cover his eyeballs. "Trust me when I say I thought of those things. And I know I am no better than them. In fact I am worse. But I am okay to live with that if it means I know how selfish people can be. How selfish we are. Me included."

This time, Helena looked up. She had been crying a lot less than Ray. "I understand." she said. "I understand how people are selfish." she looked at the boy, a strange light shining in her eyes. "I know why you did it." she said. "It's because you wanted to see if you yourself were as selfish as the rest of us when the moment counts. You wanted to have your turn in the spotlight just this once. Is that right?"

The boy simply nodded, overjoyed that Helena Iero understood. She smiled, small but radiant, at him, and all he could think about was how much better off she'd be with him as opposed to Mikey. They stared at each other for a while in the room that was smelling more and more like blood by the second. It was a shame something moving caught his eye, that it forced him to lug his eyes away from hers.

What the boy saw caused him to let out an ear-splitting scream.


	3. Part 1 - Chapter 2

Billie Joe Armstrong hated schools. He hated the musky smell in the corridors and the sound of the school bell. He hated the shitty music that they played over the loudspeaker in between classes and he absolutely loathed the crowd and the noise. He opted to be the one to stand out from the crowd rather than just another face in it. He would rather be on stage than in the mosh pit.

But his school life was cruel to him in this way.

Billie knew he had been the invisible one in his school. While all the other senior boys were off going to parties and getting stoned, Billie Joe was either sitting in his room alone, or sitting in his room with his best mate Mike. There had been a friend named John as well once, but Billie didn't like to think about John if he could help it.

He didn't like to think of school either, come to think of it.

It was Mike's fault that they were here right now. If it were up to Billie, they would be in his garage right now jamming out demos for their new album. It was Mike's idea to drag Green Day to this dingy New Jersey suburban high school to play a couple of songs for the junior music class. A year ago, this school would have never allowed such a thing. But when a punk band makes a name for itself interstate, it's enough to knock anybody on their asses from shock. Of course, him Mike and Tré were not allowed to play 'Dominated Love Slave' for the kiddies, but there were plenty of other songs to give them a taste of.

Billie was ashamed to say he enjoyed playing for the class, and loved the enthusiasm of the kids. He just had to be careful not to swear in front of the microphone, which turned out to be harder than he anticipated.

There was one school boy who seemed to stand out to Billie Joe during the performance. He was standing at the back of the class, (who were all moshing) in the corner of the room by himself. He was being ignored by everyone in the class, but he still seemed to be enjoying the music. Billie could tell by the look on the boy's face. There was the hint; the ghost of a smile there, and he banged his head ever so slightly, making his stringy black hair bounce around on his shoulders.

He reminded Billie Joe of himself.

Billie Joe almost asked one of the kids in the class who he was once they had wrapped up an energetic play-through of 'Christie Road', but he decided against it at the last moment, thinking that if he were in the boy's position, he would rather be left alone. But they did meet eyes just before he, Mike and Tré left the stage, and Billie could clearly see the appreciation for their band shining in the boy's sad eyes; which were a deep, dark hazel if Billie's sight was good enough from such a distance.

Billie allowed a smile to float onto his own face; a smile meant only for the boy in the back. He smiled back in a solemn way, as if he were genuinely morose, but thankful for the music he had just heard.

And now Billie Joe couldn't get that kid's solemn smile out of his head. It haunted him as Tré lead the way down the main corridor of the school; he was almost running. Obviously he too couldn't wait to be out of here.

Mike and Billie had given up on his unknown mental condition a week after they had met, coming to the conclusion that he must have been hit over the head one too many times as a child. He was furiously energetic; fun on days where Billie and Mike were in good moods; and irritating to no end when they weren't so tolerant.

To top things off, Tré had no instrument to carry as he had used the school drum kit, meaning he was sprinting ahead of Billie and Mike like an excited puppy. The two others lagged, as Mike had to lug his bass out of the school with him, while Billie clutched his oldest and most trusted guitar, a sky-coloured and sticker-covered Fender which he had named Blue.

He remembered when his father had bought him Blue as a small child. There was a photo taped to the back of the guitar of him holding the brand new instrument as a jovial, innocent ten-year-old. It had been taken the day his father had bought Blue home from work. A surprise present from a loving father to an equally loving son.

Andy Armstrong had died a week later.

It was the scream that brought Billie back to his senses. It came from very close by, and made him jump in alarm. It sounded masculine, but quite high-pitched. Billie looked at his band mates in turn. Mike wore the startled expression Billie was sure was plastered on his own face, and Tré was looking around hopelessly. Obviously he had been too far in his own world to register where the scream had come from.

"What the hell was that?" Mike muttered.

Billie shrugged, pretending to be totally nonchalant. "Either sex in the classroom or something serious has just happened." he said, only half-joking.

Mike raised his eyebrows as an attempt at sarcasm, but the fear in his eyes was too prominent for it to be effective. "That wasn't a sex scream." he said nervously. "That was a horror movie, 'Freddie's Coming For You' scream."

"We should go check it out." Billie said, nodding slowly, instinctively worrying for the kids' welfare. He'd always had a soft spot for teenagers; a soft spot no one else seemed to share. They always seemed so free and so wild. Billie wished he himself was still like that.

Tré squealed. "Jesus! Are you guys on drugs?"

Mike cocked an eyebrow, this time with effective sarcasm. "Do you really want me to answer that?" Billie laughed despite himself.

Tré only scowled. "No. I say we beat it before something bad happens to us as well. I don't wanna get caught in a high school thriller."

Billie snorted. "Come on. It can't be that bad. You guys need to stop watching so much TV. Besides, it was probably nothing, just someone getting freaked out…. or something."

"I say we check it out." Mike agreed, nodding at Billie; who smiled thankfully. "We'd wanna help the kids if they were in trouble, right?" Tré shook his head.

"I'm heading back to the car." he said. "You two loonies can have your little horror movie. Just don't come crying to me when you've lost all your limbs and you're bleeding to death."

"Chicken." Billie sneered. Mike shrugged. "Let him go. He's probably smart." he turned to Tré. "But take our guitars, will you? I can't be assed carrying this another inch."

Tré nodded, taking Blue from Billie, making sure to be careful. (if Tré broke Blue, Billie would rip his throat out) and Mike's Fender precision bass. "Have fun maniacs." he called as he walked away to the exit, leaving Billie and Mike in what seemed now like an eerie silence.

"Fucking pussy." Billie laughed. Mike just rolled his eyes. "Come on. Let's go see where this scream came from."

None of the classroom doors had windows on them, which made Mike and Billie's job about a hundred times more arduous. Billie opened each of the classroom doors to the left hand side of the corridor an inch and peered inside, while Mike did the same on the right. All seemed to be normal until about halfway down the isle, Billie noticed that one door was locked.

Odd.

"Hey Mike." Billie called. "This one won't budge."

Mike strode the width of the corridor in three easy strides. Billie often got envious of his friend's winning height, while his own put him only an inch taller than his girlfriend Adrienne. It was humiliating to say the least.

Mike tried the door only to have the same luck as Billie. "Damn." he said. "I'd bet my life this was where the scream came from."

"No shit." Billie drawled. "This is creepy as fuck. How come our school was never this exciting?"

Mike rolled his eyes. "Maybe because there were no homosexuals. Or because we lived in fucking Rodeo, Oakland. Or because our school was too poor to have a football team. I could go on Billie. But the important thing is we get inside here. There could be a kid in trouble. Can you break the door down? You're stronger than me."

Billie took that as a compliment and grinned. "Sure. I'm the strong one. That's right."

Mike scoffed. "I think it's more a case of Short Man's Syndrome. But whatever floats your boat, dude."

Billie's stomach flared in anger for a flash of a second, before he realised Mike's words were merely empty taunts. "Yeah, whatever. Just get out of my way." he scowled. Mike had played the Short Man Syndrome card on him ever since high school, and it was now an antique joke that put Billie in a foul mood every time he heard it. Billie tried not to dwell on the fact that these moods pretty much proved Mike's point.

Mike stepped to the side, smirking to himself. Billie shot him one last glare before he backed up a little and sprinted into the door, ramming his side into the wood. The door was made of chipboard, so it was not all that strong. Billie only had to back up and run into the door five times before it gave way on it's hinges, crashing to the floor.

Billie looked around and down the hallways. There were no classrooms that had seemed to notice the racket Billie had made, since there were no opening doors.

He found that rather odd. Extremely odd at that. But he was thankful.

And then it hit him. The metallic stench that almost made him dizzy. Billie had never smelled blood before, but somehow he knew it could be nothing else. Abandoning Mike, he stepped inside the classroom, and only just managed to stifle his own scream of terror. In front of him was a literal pile of dead teenage bodies. Many of them he recognised as the bodies of the kids that were moshing and dancing to their music in the previous class. Billie's mind was in a whirlwind. He couldn't think straight. His senses were too overwhelmed with the smell of blood and the sight of mangled corpses. He was not prepared for this. Him and Mike should have left with Tré when they had the chance.

With quick, shallow, ragged breaths, Billie searched for the face of the boy who had stood at the back of the crowd, but he wasn't there.

He breathed a sigh of relief, but was still horrified at what lay before him. It looked as though the kids had all been shot. There was even one girl who was still sitting in her desk, a gaping hole in her forehead.

But then Billie turned, and the situation became even more frightful. He hadn't deemed it possible.

But what he saw was a person, crouched on the floor in a tight ball, rocking back and forth on his ass. His hands were gripping his greasy black hair and his head was tucked protectively into his chest. There were two people - a boy and a girl - standing by him, looking at him as though he were insane. But Billie could see why the boy on the floor was shielding himself. And he let out his own strangled cry.

For standing around the boy there were twenty-odd silent people who looked as though they were screaming, but no sound came through their lips. They were almost transparent, as if they were ghosts. It was haunting. And they were all falling down, one at a time. Each one was presented with what looked like a hole in their head before they fell. It was like they were being shot, but there was no blood. Whimpering, Billie turned to the pile of the dead again and noticed something that made his heard stop. These strange apparitions, whatever they were, were the same people as the dead people in the heap. Billie couldn't think of anything he could do, so he screamed again.

They each fell to the ground around the boy and slowly disappeared into nothing. Billie could only watch, switching his gaze from the ghosts to the pile of kids every few seconds. He didn't even feel Mike's hand on his shoulder. Billie started shivering from fright.

Mike was whispering calming things to Billie from behind as they stood there, in the centre of this broken classroom. Billie's shivering did not subside, but his thinking was rational enough to notice Mike's behaviour. It was too calm. Almost as if he had seen something like this before.

"It's okay Billie." he said soothingly. "People die every day. It's fine. It's okay."

Billie realised then that Mike didn't know he had seen the ghosts. Of course he didn't. Mike wasn't crazy like Billie was. He only though Billie was scared by the corpses.

_'I'm insane'_ was the phrase that repeated itself over and over in his head. _'I'm insane. I'm insane. I'm insane.'_

Billie noticed then that the three students were all looking at him and Mike. He also realised that the boy on the floor was the very same boy that was standing aside from the mosh at the music class. Billie's heart skipped a beat and he locked eyes on him, and they stared at each other. It looked as though the boy was trying to tell him something through his gaze, but Billie didn't know what.

He barely stole a glance at the other two. The boy had an afro, and the girl had black hair and was very beautiful and short, shorter than his Adrienne. But the boy from music class was something different, Billie could feel it. The lost look in his eyes and the way his hands were shaking told Billie that he was the one who had done this whole thing.

He had murdered his class.

But, judging from his body language, he had also seen the ghosts. Maybe Billie was crazy, but there was someone else that was just the same way.

He was suddenly eager to talk to this boy.

He cleared the clog from his throat. "Are you okay, kid?" he asked. The boy just stared at him, knowing that Billie knew he wasn't okay at all. Billie sighed, trying to keep his breath steady.

"How about I take this one outside for a little fresh air." he said in a voice filled with weakness. "And you help these two out." he gestured to the afro boy and the pretty girl.

Mike frowned in concern. "Are you sure you want to be left alone with that kid?" he said in a voice that was probably too loud. "He seems more than a little unstable."

Billie opened his mouth to protest, but someone got there first.

"It's fine. I won't hurt anyone."

Billie and Mike turned to the boy, who had stood up and was brushing his clothes down. He had a typical Jersey drawl and was obviously trying hard to smile, but it looked a lot more like a pained grimace. Mike hummed. "I don't know. Forgive me if I don't really trust you right now, kid. I've just seen it all, to be honest."

The boy shook his head. "You don't know the meaning of 'it all'." he said quietly. Billie knew he was referring to the ghosts, but he thought he could hear Mike say something like "Trust me, I do." under his breath.

He decided to dismiss that.

Billie looked at the the afro boy and the pretty girl instead. The girl was shaking her head. "It's completely fine." she said. "He won't do anything. Just go for a walk. I think that'll be good for him, and you for that matter."

Billie was a little annoyed by being bossed around by a sixteen year old Goth girl, but also eager to talk to the kid. He decided it was best to take the boy on a little walk. And judging by his skin tone, he could use a little sunlight.

"Oh, and I'm Helena by the way." the girl piped in a freakishly bright tone as Billie placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, preparing to direct him out of the classroom.

"And I'm Ray." said the afro kid, who looked beet red and puffy-eyed; like he'd been crying.

"Mike."

"Billie Joe."

Everyone looked at the boy standing by Billie now, waiting for him to introduce himself. Only he stood vacantly and unmoving, a grave look on his face. He wasn't talking.

Helena gave a defeated sigh, smiling sadly. "And this is Gerard. Gerard Way."


	4. Part 1 - Chapter 3

They walked outside to the corridor silently, Billie's hand still applying a slight pressure to Gerard's shoulder. But, unlike before, there were a few curious young heads poking out of classroom doors; meaning there were kids…. and teachers, that had heard all the ruckus. Billie Joe knew that Gerard wasn't going to come out of this whole ordeal a free man, but he was sure the terrified boy wanted nothing less than to think about that right now.

Billie himself was terrified, and he had a hell of a lot less than Gerard on his plate.

Gerard walked fine, but Billie felt he needed some egging on. Even his shoulder blade was shaking, he couldn't imagine how his legs must be.

He led Gerard down onto a bench in the school courtyard, making sure he was seated and comfortable before taking a seat beside him. Gerard's feet made patterns in the mulch as he looked up at the sky, seemingly fascinated with the cloudless blue. Billie though it best to give the boy some time to sit silently. He couldn't imagine what sort of a state his mind was in at the moment.

His was reeling too fast to be considered human, and he was an adult.

It was a good five minutes before Gerard spoke.

"You saw them too, didn't you?" he asked. Billie noticed Gerard spoke with only the right side of his mouth, making his words drawl together so they almost sounded like a drunken slur.

"Saw what?" Billie asked; feigning naivety.

"You know full well what I mean.".  
>Billie sighed, running a hand through his bleached hair. "You're right. I do know. And yes, I did see them. But what <em>were<em> they?"

"They call them Deathwalkers." Gerard said slowly. "They're these ghosts. They always appear straight after a person has died, and they simulate the person's death before disappearing forever. But only a few people can see them. Even fewer can conjure them manually."

Billie choked a little on his own saliva. "I…. wow." he stammered. "That sounds like some kind of an emo fairytale…. no offence." he added, taking note of the greasy black hair that fell into Gerard's eyes and the faint eyeliner rimming his lids.

Gerard smiled weakly. "None taken. I know it's weird to think about, but I have been able to see them ever since I was thirteen. I'm used to it, but they still scare me, every time."

"I can see why." Billie responded, not bothering to try and put humour into his words. "Y'know, if I was hearing you tell me this any other time, I would have thought you were completely crazy. But I've seen them too, and now I'm wondering if whether none of us are crazy or we both are."

Gerard nodded quickly. "Yeah, I understand. It was like that for me, except I had no one who shared the ability to see them."

"Horrible."

"I know right?"

There was a thick silence, full of thoughts and mystery. Billie broke it shakily, unsure of the question he was about to ask.

"Why?" he questioned. "Why'd you do it?"

Gerard smiled bitterly, a strange gleam glassing over his eyes. For some reason it didn't even make Billie nervous. "I wanted to see what is was like to not be invisible." he said.

Billie understood what he meant far too well.

"I'm just as selfish as they are." Gerard continued, the mulch-drawings on the ground he was doing with his feet becoming larger and more elaborate. "I wanted the attention just as much as they always seem to. I just felt like it was my turn to bee seen, and that was the only way I could think to get it."

Billie tried to look into Gerard's face, which was still looking downward. "I completely understand." he said. "I was invisible as well. Invisible because I played guitar instead of football and wore tight jeans rather than sweatpants."

Gerard nodded. "They never wanted to have anything to do with you, did they?"

"Never."

"How could you live like that?" Gerard asked. "How could you cope being no more than just another face in the crowd, every single day without doing anything about it?"

Billie laughed abruptly. "I couldn't cope. It's why I'm now the frontman of a band that I get the feeling's only headed up. I was sick of not being selfish. I wanted the world to notice me for once."

Billie saw the ghost of a smile drift across Gerard's face. "It feels good, doesn't it?"

"It sure does, but the most important thing is to not let it get to your head."

"Let what get to your head?"

Billie shrugged. "Oh y'know. The attention. The fame. You should be the only one who knows that you're doing what you're doing for your own benefit. You shouldn't tell the world that, they'll hate you. Think you're an asshole. It's hypocritical of them but it's true."

Gerard sighed and shook his head sharply. "Are you saying I went the wrong way about it?"

Billie paused at the question. Of course, killing people was never looked at as the right way to do anything, but did he really think that what Gerard had done was in fact a bad thing? He had wanted to be noticed as much as Billie had always wanted to, but he had gone about it in a different way. His intentions were the same.

"I don't think you did the wrong thing." Billie said carefully. "Just be sure never to make a parade out of it if you do it in the future. Not to make what you're doing some kind of a selfish show."

There was a moment of silence before Gerard suddenly coughed, choking on nothing. He was colossally shocked at just how understanding this man was. Surely he was the only person in the whole world that thought him killing twenty-odd teenagers wasn't the wrong thing to do. He definitely didn't fit the shallow-minded rockstar stereotype Gerard had come to believe was true.

He composed himself after a few utterly spellbound moments of choking shock and lifted his head to look in Billie Joe Armstrong's round emerald eyes. They were so bright and so full of understanding Gerard felt tears spring into his own eyes.

The look the pair shared in that moment I could not explain in words.

And yet after what seemed like an eternity of staring at each other, and when Billie's thoughts had begun to stray back to the events in the classroom, he found it was time to break the perfect silence.

"You said that those Deathwalker things could be summoned manually. I still don't get it."

Gerard's eyes widened a little at the sound of Billie's voice, as if he were taken a little off guard. "Well…." Gerard said, a seeming a little flustered. "Deathwalkers appear, simulate the person's death and disappear naturally after a person has died, but someone with the ability to summon them can do so once the Deathwalker has already been and gone. It's like calling them back to simulate the death again."

Billie shuddered. "Why would anyone want to do that? To call them back again, I mean."

Gerard shrugged. "I dunno. But I heard from a friend that some people actually summon them involuntarily, which means they can't help it."

"Wow." Billie said. "That would suck."

"Yeah. And my friend also said that those people summon them in clusters. So like, it won't happen for a while, and then they'll just all appear at once, surrounding the person." Gerard had started shivering again, but now he started at his feet, which were still making circles in the mulch. Billie was a little gobsmacked with learning all of this, but he supposed he was one of the people who could see these Deathwalker things. He knew it was something he had to live with, somehow. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"How are you taking this so well?" Gerard asked, now gazing at Billie intently.

Billie shook his head. "I'm not taking it well at all." he admitted. "I'm terrified. But I've been more terrified before. I guess you could say that I'm used to being scared like this."

Gerard looked into his lap. "Something pretty shitty must have happened to you before this then. If it's even more horrifying than seeing dead people appear right in front of your eyes."

Billie noticed that Gerard didn't say that suggestively at all. Like he was merely making a statement rather than trying to push the information of Billie's darkest moment out of him.

But Billie felt he could trust Gerard with his life. It was a strange feeling, but he felt a connection between him and the boy with the dark hair and seemingly murderous tendencies.

"It was when my dad died." Billie explained flatly, wondering just after he said it why he had even done so. But Gerard only nodded, before looking up at Billie and most surprisingly, taking his hand. Billie stiffened, not at all used to this kind of affection, before relaxing at the gesture and trying to will away the tears that had made an unwelcome entry to the back of his eyes.

He took a deep breath.

"Hey…." he said slowly. Gerard continued looking up at Billie, massaging his hand with his own and cringing ever so slightly at having to expose his face to the light of day. Billie mused over the fact that they were alike in this way. He too hated the brightness. Preferred dark over light any time.

"What?" Gerard asked, he also still seemed to be a little distressed. He sounded resigned, and maybe a little rude. Billie let it slide though. The kid was all shaken up, just as he was.

"What's your favourite movie?" he asked spontaneously, in an obvious attempt to change the subject. Gerard gave a short, humourless laugh.

"Uh, it's _Star Wars V: The Empire Strikes Back_, actually."

Billie raised his eyebrows. "Really? Huh."

Gerard smirked. "Are you gonna give me shit about my obvious freakish behaviours, as well?"

Billie blinked. "Why would I do that?"

"Let's just say that Star Wars is one of the main starting points the other kids like…. I mean, _liked_, to give me shit about. Not the trendiest movie to be a fan of."

Billie smiled and nodded, understanding. "Well…." he said. "Did you ever waltz into school wearing a Star Wars t-shirt?"

"On my first day." Gerard nodded, now grinning. "I also auditioned for the part of Peter Pan in the school musical musical on my first day." Billie gave him a look. "I know right." Gerard laughed lightly.

"Well, don't expect me to act all sympathetic on you for that." Billie said, and Gerard nodded. "But I actually like Star Wars as well. Who would have guessed, huh?"

"Not me. A hardcore punk rocker like you, I would have expected something more along the lines of _The Shining_, or _Saw_." Gerard said, now smiling wholly.

Billie praised himself for changing the subject so well. "Yes well, we're all full of surprises, aren't we? I prefer _Return Of The Jedi_, but each to their own I suppose."

Gerard nodded. "I wish the world worked that way. I wish all the kids in my class had the 'each to their own' attitude. But they don't."  
>"Or didn't." Billie muttered, referring to the murder; but not in a nasty way. But then he perked up again. "You would not believe what I have in my pocket right at this moment."<p>

Gerard winced. "Right. What do you have?"

Billie reached into his left trouser pocket and out emerged a couple of fold-in light sabres, one red and the other blue.

This time, Gerard genuinely burst out laughing. "What the hell? Do you just carry them around in your pocket all day?"

Billie smirked at his laughter, which was still in full swing. "No shit. You never know when you might need to have a light sabre battle. This situation permits, and my point is proved."

Gerard wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. Alright, rockstar. There is only one more question."

Billie raised an eyebrow. "And that would be?"

"Sith or Jedi?"

Billie snorted. "Sith, obviously. Never underestimate the power of the dark side, young Padawan." Billie handed Gerard the blue light sabre and stood, unsheathing it to it's full length as Gerard did the same.

They started fighting with the light sabres while having what could only be described as a good natured chat.

"So…." Billie said, whilst aiming a stab at Gerard's left thigh. "You have any idea what you want to be when you're older?" Billie tries to dodge the fact that Gerard was probably going to prison, or maybe an institution for when he did.

"I have a younger brother who's a bigger nerd than me. You're gonna have to do a lot better than that." Gerard said with a smirk as he quickly dodged Billie's attack and swished his own sabre around, connecting it with Billies torso. Billie gaped, and Gerard's smirk turned into a full-fledged grin. "And I do have some ideas of what I would like to do, by the way."

"And what're they?" asked Billie, now trying desperately to defend himself against Gerard's onslaught.

"A comic artist." Gerard said. "Or a singer. I haven't made up my mind just yet."

Billie's eyes widened as he blocked a swing at his face at the last second. "A singer huh? Solo or in a band?"

"A band. My brother and I went and saw the Smashing Pumpkins last year and that's when we decided we needed to be in a band. Only he can't play an instrument."

Billie laughed and poked Gerard's arm with his sabre. "Well that might be an issue. I thought you may be able to sing, seeing as you went into Peter Pan and all. Who taught you to sing?"

"My grandma."

"Oh how lovely."

Gerard smiled, doing a complicated twisty motion with his sabre, making Billie go goggle-eyed.

"Woah." he said dumbly.

Gerard chuckled. "Who taught you to sing then?"

"My dad."

Gerard's face fell, remembering what Billie had said about his father earlier. "Oh."

Billie continued to smile, though it turned a little pained. "Yeah. He was a jazz singer." he laughed. "He could sing real good but I was always like to him: _"Why jazz dad? You could sing anything, and you choose jazz."_

Gerard laughed, and got Billie right in the crotch, making him groan. "Well at least you have a band. The only person I know to play an instrument is Ray, the guy with the afro, he plays guitar. And also a guy called Matt from down at the bar who plays drums."

Billie grinned despite the pain in his crotch as he barely blocked another blow to the same area. "You should really start a band dude." he said. "If you can sing and you know a guitarist and a drummer. All you need is a bassist."

Gerard jabbed Billie's crotch again, brining him to his knees. He aimed his light sabre at the spot between Billie's eyebrows, proving he had won the fight. "Which my brother can learn I suppose." Gerard said, grinning. "Thanks for the help Billie Joe. You weren't hard to beat at all."

Billie pouted. "Damn you. And it's just Billie. Billie Joe makes me sound like some kind of a cowboy."

Gerard offered his hand to Billie, who took it as Gerard pulled him to his feet. "And Gerard makes me sound like some kind of a 19th century butler. But I find I can't really change my name much, I gotta live with the pain."

Billie shrugged. "What about just calling yourself Gee? It sounds cool and it's a hell of a lot easier to say."

Gerard scrunched up his face in thought. "Okay. It's alright I suppose." he said. "But only my friends can call me Gee, the people who don't know me well still have to call me Gerard."

"Sounds like a plan." said Billie lightly. "I just have a question."

Gerard raised an eyebrow. "Shoot."

Am I allowed to call you Gee?"

Gerard smiled.


	5. Part 1 - Chapter 4

_~ Two Years Later ~_

Lindsey Ballato volunteered in Oakland House every Friday. She was handy enough with a guitar that the patients furthest gone could enjoy her playing, and the ones still clinging on to their last strings of sanity could admire her service to the hospital. Lindsey knew she was Oakland House's favourite source of entertainment, but of course she was always far too humble to admit such a thing.

But the reason she started volunteering at the Mental Institution was not from her desire to do good for the community. Nobody in the world was that good a person. When she heard that the now infamous mass-murdering teenager - Gerard Way - was being transferred to Oakland House in California from his hometown all the way in New Jersey; she jumped at the opportunity to be a part of Oakland House, and hopefully a part of Gerard Way's life.

Why, you ask? It's funny, Lindsey never really knew why she had always craved to meet and talk to Gerard Way either. But the boy had fascinated her. She had watched his trial on television two years back; at how he was convicted of murdering twenty-two high school students, all either fifteen or sixteen years old. Lindsey remembered feeling strangely pleased when he was sentenced to rehab in a mental institute rather than prison; his mental state deemed too unstable for normal circumstance. She had watched as Gerard was led away from the courtroom by two burly police officers, and she remembered him scanning the jury and the audience rather desperately as if he were looking for someone. Lindsey didn't think he had found whoever he was looking for, because after his search, Gerard Way dropped his head low, letting his stringy black hair fall over his face as he let the officers lead him outside the courtroom and into a dark-windowed car.

Lindsey didn't know what her fascination with Gerard Way was. Was it the fact that he had killed over twenty people his age, all at once? The way he never fought or argued or barely uttered a word throughout the whole hearing? Or was it simply the way he looked? Skin the colour of freshly fallen snow, hair the colour of a starless winter night. Or his eyes, that looked so alive and so curious and so _not-insane_, but then again that looked so corrupted and so angry.

Angry with what exactly, Lindsey hadn't known.

But when she found out that Gerard Way was going to be sent to Oakland House, so close to where she lived, she went into a frenzy, researching her ass off about the mass-murdering teen, finding out all she could. It was stalking, maybe. But she wanted to know all she could. She wanted to have a chance to talk to him one day; it was kinda like a small, silly little dream of hers.

So she went. She had practiced her guitar, even though bass was her specialty. She had learned enough so that she could play enough songs for the people at Oakland House and not bore them with the same ones over and over. She had discovered through her research that Gerard Way was both a metal and Brit-pop fan and so she learned covers of Iron Maiden, the Smashing Pumpkins, David Bowie and Metallica. She learned all she could, just in a desperate hope that she could meet Gerard freaking Way.

That was two years ago. Let's just say that the rest is history.

Lindsey sighed as she zipped up her guitar case. All the others had left, off to bed or to get their meds or to whatever crazy people do in their spare time. But she could feel his presence in to room so well, it's like he alone could thicken the air she breathed.

Gerard scared the other people in Oakland House. They avoided him at all costs. They were all in there for diagnosis's, some of them had dementia, others had varying levels of depression. Gerard had been given a form telling him he had sociopathy, but he and Lindsey both knew it was a monstrous pile of bullshit.

But being a sociopath was enough information to make the crazies in Oakland House terrified of you. Gerard said he liked being feared like that, and Lindsey was sure there was a part of him that did. But she knew he also wanted to be loved; he had never really been loved, if that part of his record was true.

Lindsey had met Gerard at Oakland house at her first visit. The boy had been at the back of the room as she played a cover of _Let Me Sleep Beside You_ on her guitar. He had been leaning up against the wall and singing softly to himself with the tiniest smile on his face. Lindsey, nor anyone else had heard him singing, but he looked so happy right then and there that Lindsey felt something warm and beautiful rise in her; and she suddenly felt absolutely terrible that he had been bullied, ignored and unloved his whole life.

Lindsey had decided then that she wanted to be the one that Gerard Way could and was allowed to love.

They had grown to be more than friends; at least she liked to think so. Maybe he felt the same. They had a lot of time alone, what with all the other patients trying with desperation to keep out of his way. They always spent these times, every Friday night after Lindsey had finished playing, just talking, and maybe even holding hands if they were in a good enough mood.

Lindsey told Gerard of her old life; when she had lived with her parents in Scotland before she had run away from them to America when she was eighteen. Her dad was an alcoholic and her mother a businesswoman who could never give little Lindsey the trouble of a time of day. When Lindsey had made it to the US, she had taken up art and music, in hope to completely change who she was from the mathematic, genius girl she had been growing up. She wanted to forget.

Gerard told of his family too. Her grew up in New Jersey; and so his parents never let him or his younger brother out of the house alone, the reputation was that bad. A murder in their suburb on the news was nothing out of the ordinary. He told her his parents had always been a little odd, seeming to favour little Mikey over him as long as he could remember. He told her about his friends, Ray and Helena. His favourite relative was his grandmother Elena. She had taught him to sing at a young age, but when Lindsey asked him to sing a song for her, he had declined a speedy no.

Talking to him was Lindsey's favourite part of the week, little did she know it was Gerard's favourite as well. It had been her favourite for two years.

"You played Green Day today." Gerard said to her once she had stood up. She left her guitar case on the ground, knowing she would be staying for a while after. He walked over to a couch in the middle of the room and sat; gesturing for her to do the same.

Lindsey raised her eyebrows and sat down, sinking into the cushion. "Yes I did. I didn't even think you knew who Green Day were, it was a request from one of the others, that's why I did it."

"I know Green Day." Gerard said, Lindsey noticed there was something odd in his voice. "Everyone knows them."

"True, I just didn't think they were your forte. What's your favourite song by them?"

Gerard opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it again. He did that three or four times, looking like a dumbfounded fish.

Lindsey raised her eyebrows in concern. "Gerard, are you okay?" she asked.

He nodded quickly, blinking. "Peachy. My favourite song, um…." Lindsey noticed then that a lone bead of sweat had appeared on the eighteen-year-old's forehead, and his face had crinkled into a slight grimace. "Christie Road, maybe. Or Longview."

But Lindsey didn't care about that anymore. "Seriously Gerard? What's the matter? You're really bad at hiding when you're stressed, y'know." Lindsey realised then that Gerard had begun to shake."

There was a moment of silence before he answer; maybe ten seconds of nothing but the sound of his now shaky breathing.

I knew him." Gerard stuttered finally, standing from the couch and beginning to pace around the room. "I knew him. Well at least I thought I did, but not anymore. Not after what he's done."

Lindsey's heart had begun to pound in her throat. She had never seen Gerard act quite like this before; usually so calm and introverted. She had never, ever had to be wary around him before; which astounded her, seeing as the guy had killed over twenty people in about five minutes. But now she feared she was witnessing the mumblings of a madman.

She followed him with her her gaze, eyes wide as he kept muttering the same three words, over and over. "I knew him, I knew him, I knew him."

It was quite some time before Lindsey got the courage to speak. "Knew who?"

Gerard rounded on her, a glint of what Lindsey could only describe as mania in his eye. She didn't know how she managed not to flinch. Maybe she was stoic in panic. "Who do you think?" he hissed. "The one person in this world that has ever understood me; treated me like a human being. I thought I knew him; I thought I could trust him. But he went away; succumbed to his stupid fame. It's just the thing he told me _not to do_."

Lindsey shook her head, and was surprised to see her vision blurring over with tears. "I don't understand what you're saying, Gerard." she whispered scratchily. "Who are you talking about?"

Gerard stood completely still, and Lindsey swore she forgot to breathe. "Billie Joe Armstrong. That's who."

Lindsey's eyes widened from shock this time; now she was sure Gerard had lost his marbles. "What? How in the hell do you know Billie Joe Armstrong, Gerard? He's like, a world-famous superstar!"

Gerard was still shaking, probably worse than before. He shuffled his way beck to the couch, where he sank down into it and put his head in his hands; like he was grieving. "He came to our school two years ago. Green Day came, they were touring in Jersey at the time. They played us some stuff. _Christie Road, 2000 Light Years Away, No One Knows,_ stuff like that. It was the day of the murders, and I was screaming my head off. Billie Joe Armstrong and Mike Dirnt found us. Found Ray, Helena and I in there with the bodies. If they hadn't found us then I would have pulled the trigger on myself. Those two guys saved my damned little murdering ass." Gerard paused there and took a deep breath. He looked like he wanted desperately to say more, but was holding himself back, like he was keeping a particularly painful secret. Lindsey let it be.

"Billie Joe took me outside. We talked. We had a sword fight with a couple of fucking _light sabres_, Lindsey. He told me he understood. He told me that I was normal, that what I did was alright. _He understood._ But…." he lifted his head again here, looking at the ceiling like he was avoiding Lindsey's eyes but was still so desperate to tell her the story. She remained silent. Intrigued. Pained. Amazed. Listening.

"But that wasn't the best part. The best part…" now he looked at her. "The best part was that he could see them too, just like I could."

Lindsey closed her eyes, not wanting to look at Gerard's crying ones any longer. She sighed deeply, she knew what this was. It was a mad man's talk. For two years, Lindsey had been under the impression that Gerard Way was not as crazy as everyone thought he was; that he was in here for the murders, but not for whatever problems with his brain the therapists had made up for their own benefit.

But she realised she must be wrong. There was no way Gerard had met Billie Joe freaking Armstrong. That she knew was impossible. And on top of that, he was now telling her that he had seen…. _things…._ the day of the murders? She didn't know what things he had seen, but the way he had said it made it pretty clear that whatever it was, it wasn't normal. Lindsey realised with a sickening twist to her stomach that maybe Gerard Way belonged in Oakland House after all.

She heard him cough slightly before speaking. Obviously he wasn't done. "But he left. He left me here to rot after that day." His voice was cracking all over the place from his clogged tears. "I thought he would come to the trial, at least. I looked all over the court room for him, but he wasn't there."

Lindsey's heart thumped as she remembered back to when she had watched the trial on TV two years ago. She had noticed Gerard searching the crowd for someone, and she had assumed even then that he hadn't found what he had been looking for.

Billie Joe Armstrong. He had been looking for Billie Joe Armstrong.

Was it possible Gerard had been clinging onto this insanity he had two years ago till this day? Was it possible that he was still as unstable?

"I thought then, that maybe he'd come to visit me." Gerard was mumbling now, like he was talking to himself. "But no. Not once have I seen his face since the Light Sabres. That is, if you don't count on TV, when _Basket Case_ plays on MTV for the millionth time in one day." There was a rage creeping into his voice, something Lindsey had never heard before, not in all the time she'd known him.

"He practically left me for dead. If I ever see him again I will kill him." His voice was getting louder and louder by the second. _"I will kill him before he gets the chance to tell me why he's left me on my own for so long._"

Lindsey got up off the couch then, almost running to grab her guitar case. Gerard didn't even seem to notice she'd left from beside him. "Um, Gerard, I'm gonna go now, okay?" she stammered. He didn't even acknowledge her. His eyes were closed, tears trimming down his cheeks like a raging waterfall of insane sorrow. Her heart twisted. What sat before her was a broken boy, not even out of his teenage years. Some ungodly thing had poked and prodded at his mind one too many times, and the result was this. A snivelling, terrified ball of fear, huddled up on a couch and scared of whatever things he could see that no one else could. Lindsey had been wrong about him for so long. She thought he was completely sane; a completely normal boy who she imagined being friends (sometimes she even wished more than friends) with for the rest of her life.

But now she realised that could never happen. She realised she had to let go of her now silly teenage dream; what she had always seemed to want. She had to let Gerard Way go. And it would be a lot less painful to do it now.

"Bye, Gerard." she whispered, hoping in some corner of her mind that she would see him again; but then again knowing she wouldn't. She could hear his whimpers but she refused to look right at him, she knew it would make her break down. A lone tear strayed from the corner of her eye, and she turned away from him for the final time.

The sun was in the middle of setting when she crossed the lobby. She wanted nothing more than to leave Oakland House and never, ever come back.

She cursed her optimism, her stupid false hope about Gerard Way. She was crazy, thinking a boy who killed twenty two other kids was actually completely normal, she was out of her freaking mind. She was stupid and naive and totally humiliated. She needed to go home and start her life over, plan it out for herself again.

She was almost out the door when the voice stopped her. She recognised it immediately, from when she had learned to play the bass line that roared underneath his singing voice. When she looked up, her theory was only confirmed. Dark, curly hair and eyes that were big and green and drooped downwards like an old dog's. Her breath hitched in her throat, but not because she was standing in front of probably the most famous man in music at this very moment.

"Do you work here?" was what he had asked her.

She blinked a few times, not believing what she was actually seeing. "What are _you_ doing here?" she breathed, feeling her eyes practically pipping out of their sockets.

Billie Joe Armstrong shifted from foot to foot nervously, as if the whole place gave him the chills. He had a younger, goth-looking girl beside him, but she didn't look half as nervous.

The sun had set by this time, so maybe Lindsey didn't blame him, though she always used to stay here far past dark with Gerard….

She needed to stop thinking about him.

He scratched the back of his neck. "I, um…. I wanted to see someone, one of the patients. Visiting hours are still on, right?"

To her own surprise, Lindsey barked out a loud laugh. "Oh, visiting hours are still on, but trust me. You do _not_ want to see him right now."

Billie Joe narrowed his eyes. "How do you even know who I am talking about?"

"Gerard Way, right?" Lindsey asked easily, his eyes widened, before he came out with a stiff little nod. She noticed then that she had most likely been wrong about not believing Gerard when he spoke of his accusation with Billie Joe. It made her feel a little worse, but she still didn't have a problem accepting his insanity.

"Trust me man, you do _not_ want to see Gerard Way right now." she shook her head.

"Why?"

"Because he'll probably fucking kill you, alright!" Lindsey saw the girl beside Billie Joe frown.

Billie Joe's expression turned pained. "Because I stayed away from him, right?"

Lindsey stared at him cooly. "He said something like that."

She suddenly felt terrible. What Gerard had said about Billie Joe was obviously true; and she was even starting to doubt that the voices in his head and the strange things he saw he could see were also visions of his insanity. They probably were; but she had so far tonight been only wrong about him.

She felt a strange urge; to defend Gerard Way in whatever way she could. Somehow Lindsey knew that if Gerard was to lay eyes on Billie Joe, his heart would shatter into a million irreparable pieces. She had grown close enough with the guy to wish anything but that for him.

To Lindsey's surprise, the girl with Billie Joe took a step forwards. Lindsey had just assumed that she was some kind of pathetic rockstar arm candy Billie Joe was borrowing for the night. Now that she thought about it; the girl looked too pale, too sickly and far too modest to be anything of the sort. She was wearing a full black dress dotted with silver sequins and she had her hair gone up in a tight bun, making her facial features sharp and her grey eyes appear huge. Lindsey wished she could look as perfect as that.

"I'm Helena." said the girl. "I was in Gerard's year at school, and I like to think that Billie Joe and I understand him better than anyone else in the world."

Lindsey recognised the name Helena from Gerard's stories of his school and childhood. She was in the classroom when Gerard murdered the kids. Why didn't he kill Helena as well?

But then Lindsey remembered to be pissed off. How dare this girl assume she knew Gerard Way better than her? Where had she been for two years, while Gerard had nobody? She was asking the same in terms of Billie Joe as well. Lindsey was confused and angry, she didn't know what was true and what was not. She didn't know whether Gerard was speaking the truth or he had lost the plot completely. She could hardly come to terms with the fact that Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day was standing right in front of her, for God's sake!  
>"Look, <em>Helena<em>." Lindsey drawled her name out mockingly. "I don't know where you've been for the past two years, but it's hardly fair to assume you know the guy back there better than me when you haven't seen him for Christ know how long." Helena was still smiling, which was really starting to grate on Lindsey's nerves.

"Look, all I'm saying is I doubt you even know him now." Lindsey didn't even try to sound reasonable. "It's been a while since you've seen each other, right? Well, things change. He's changed. You haven't seen him for two years, you don't even know him anymore." Lindsey hardly knew why she was defending Gerard anymore. There was a protective instinct; she just didn't know where it was coming from.

"You think he's crazy." the accusation came from Billie Joe, who had also taken a step toward Lindsey. "You think he's completely fucking loopy because of what he's told you about us. About me more particularly. My best friend Mike and I have hung out with Helena's and Gerard's families a lot ever since he was taken here, and trust me when I say he's not bat-shit like you think he is. We just know." Helena was nodding all through Billie Joe's proclamation, silently agreeing.

Lindsey had finally had enough. She brought a hand to her face, sure to be smearing the crimson lipstick she wore every day. But she didn't care. Not right now, when there was a war going on inside her own freaking head. A war of what to believe about Gerard Way.

"Can we see him?" Helena finally asked again.

Lindsey sighed, her head feeling like it weighed a tonne. She didn't know what to think. "Look. Maybe you're right. Maybe Gerard _is_ completely normal and dandy. Maybe when he says he _sees things in his head_, he actually does." Lindsey paused then, not failing to miss the knowing glance Billie Joe and Helena shared at her last statement. "But I would highly advise against going in to visit the old boy right now."

"Why?" Helena asked, her nosiness was starting to grind on Lindsey's nerves. It didn't make the situation in her head any better at all.

"Because I was with him not fifteen minutes ago, and he said something like this." Lindsey cleared her throat in what was meant to be an exaggerated display. "_I will kill him before he gets the chance to tell me why he's left me on my own for so long_." Lindsey looked up at them, a grim smile on her face. "And the guy sounded pretty damn serious. I don't know how he'd react to seeing you, Helena, but I don't think I'd be able to survive through the media's ramblings if Gerard freaking Way were to murder _you_, Billie Joe Armstrong. It would be a nightmare."

Lindsey was surprised to see him give a small smile at that. "Please save me that burden if you can, Billie Joe." Billie looked at her; a look of understanding swimming in his eyes. Lindsey could literally see the tears forming behind those spheres of emerald green; she could see the silvery liquid seep through the sides of his eyes and pool in front of them. She saw how his eyelids pushed them over the edge when he blinked. He didn't even try to wipe them away, and it broke Lindsey's already fragile heart.

"I think we should all go." Lindsey whispered. "I think it's be better if you don't have to see Gerard Way ever again, or at least for a very long time." Billie Joe nodded, though he looked like he couldn't think of anything worse than what Lindsey just suggested.

Helena spoke up. "I will not go without Billie. And so I'll walk away also. We may meet again someday in the future, but I think you are right. It'll save us more pain if we leave now." the sound of her voice reminded Lindsey of the sound of a soft gail wind in the winter; it was far too perfect and compelling to be considered human.

She nodded. "I'm Lindsey by the way." she said quietly. "And no, I don't work here. Just volunteer with my guitar every Friday." she forced a smile in Billie Joe's direction. "But I'm with you guys. Oakland House has become too much too quickly for me, and I don't think I can handle it anymore. You can…." she faltered over her words, all the memories of her and Gerard coming at her in a torrential wave. "You can count me out as well. It's for the best I think."

"For now, anyway." Helena whispered.

"For now." Billie Joe repeated.

Lindsey took a deep breath, and fell in time behind Billie Joe and Helena as they walked one at a time out of Oakland House's front door. "For now."


	6. Part 2 - Chapter 1

**_Part II - Better Than Air_**

_~ 24th January, 2003 - Oakland ~_

_Dear Mr. Michael Pritchard,_

_You have been invited to attend a ceremony in order to celebrate the life of Mrs Helena Way, (née Iero) who most tragically passed away late last year on the 13th December, 2002. We will be holding a private service this Saturday 24th January, and we would really appreciate it if you were to attend the ceremony and reception following._

_Regards,_

_The Iero Family_

_Location - Oakland Cemetery_

_Time - 10:30pm - 11:45pm (reception starts at 12 midnight at Iero household)_

_Helena Way_

_1977-2002_

_We hope you can be there._

There was a list of questions that ran through Mike Dirnt's head as he re-read the letter he received in the mail that afternoon for the up tenth time.

Helena Way was dead? Mike didn't know that, but he knew that both her brother Frank and her husband Mikey would be devastated.

Why was he invited? Sure, he had known the Iero and the Way family well once, but it's not like they were close or anything. Why did they want him there?

Why was the funeral being held over a month after her death? Usually they happened only about a week following.

And why was he getting a letter now, when today's date was also Saturday 24th January? Was it a hastily planned funeral? Was the Iero family too busy to prepare?

Why was the funeral being held at 10:30 at night? Sure, the Iero's and the Way's were both a bit Goth, but seriously?

And most intriguingly, how did Helena Way die, and why hadn't he seen her Deathwalker since her death?

Mike looked at his watch, gasping when it read 5:25pm. How many times had he re-read the invitation? The hours had just slipped by stealthily today, Mike was afraid that a mere minute would lapse and he would be ready to die.

_This is weird_, Mike had thought when he read the letter for the first time this morning. He hadn't seen Helena, her brother Frank or the Way family since 1994. They used to see each other a lot back in the day, almost constantly for two years. They would eat, sleep over and spend hours with the Iero's and the Way's; and it was the admittance of the eldest Way, Gerard, that had brought the Green Day lads together with these two families; along with their other family friend, Ray Toro.

Billie Joe Armstrong, Mike's best and oldest friend, had known Gerard Way the best out of him and Mike. This meant that Billie confused Mike to no end when he'd always refused to go visit Gerard in the mental hospital. Whenever Mike told Billie he should go and pay Gerard an hour of his time, Billie always responded with a rushed decline; almost like he was afraid.

However, Billie had always spoke very highly of Gerard Way. Mike didn't understand what Billie was afraid of; or if he was hiding something.

But, Mike remembered one day in '94 when Billie came knocking on his own door. He'd told Mike that they couldn't see the Iero's, the Way's, or even Ray Toro anymore. Billie never explained why, he just said that the friendship with them had to come to an end. To this day Mike never understood why that was, he just sort of went with it.

And now, nine years later, he was invited to Helena Iero's funeral. A girl he'd found traumatised and a witness at the scene of a mass murderer. He hadn't seen her in what seemed like forever, so the pang in his heart at hearing of her loss was small.

But it was still there.

He decided to ring his friends, to see if they were invited to Helena's funeral as well. Surely they would be, if he was. He tapped the first of two numbers he had memorised by heart into his phone and brought the device to his ear, his heart beating fast for reasons he did not know.

"Hello?" came the odd-sounding, mouse-like voice from the other end.

"Hi Tré. How are you?" Mike asked.

"I'm great! I just bought doughnuts, and I noticed just then that I bought, like, the whole store, and I will probably will eat all of them if I don't share with anyone. So will you come over and eat doughnuts with me?"

Mike stifled a laugh at Tré's childlike antics. Perhaps some things were still flowing normally today. "I can't Tré." he said warmly. "I have to go out tonight."

"Ohhhh." Mike could almost hear Tré's pout from the tone of his voice. "Why not? Are you taking Britt out tonight?" He seemed to perk up at the idea.

Mike chuckled. "Nuh, I wish I was though. I got invited to a funeral, actually. Helena Way died."

Tré was silent for a moment. "Woah, seriously? What, you mean like, Frankie Iero's sister?"

Mike nodded. "That's the one. I was ringing to see if you got an invite as well. Obviously you didn't."

"Nuh man, can't say I did. But come on. Why would those guys invite me, right? You and Billie were the ones that were close to them back in those weird days."

Mike was disappointed that Tré wasn't invited. "Yeah." he mumbled. "I suppose. It's just a private ceremony, they're not doing it in a church or anything like that. It's just in the hall next to the graveyard, so I don't really know what to expect."

"Ah well, you'll see I guess." Tré said, sounding resigned. "Make sure to tell Mikey and Frank I'm sorry. And maybe ring Billie as well, to see if he was invited, y'know? He might be if you are."

Mike nodded. "I was planning on it. Alright, I'd better go now. You enjoy those doughnuts Tré, and save some for me if you can."

Tré's response was muffled, probably by the amount of food stuffed into his mouth. Mike barely caught "Catch you later."

"All right, see you mate."

Mike hung up and wasted no time in calling Billie. His oldest friend and band frontman had been in a bit of a depression lately, with the steady decline of Green Day's success and lingering troubles with his wife, Adrienne. He was like a ticking time bomb, say something to piss him off, and he would rip into you, sometimes literally. The booze and occasional pot probably didn't help his case either. But Mike understood Billie Joe better than anyone, and Billie himself knew this.

Mike dialled him and brought the phone to his ear once again. He could hear Billie pick up, but he didn't answer straight away. In the distance of the other end of the line, Mike would have sworn he could hear yelling and screaming.

"Hello?" Mike said into the speaker. "Hello Billie? Are you there?"

He heard a sigh. "Yeah, hang on just a sec." Mike heard Billie yell something vulgar in that ultra-powerful voice of his, and make the screaming cease immediately. "Sorry Mike. Family issues."

Mike pursed his lips and shook his head. "You really need to sort yourself out Billie." he said slowly. "If you don't sharpen yourself up soon, Adrienne's gonna take herself and the kids and fuck out of your life. Your walking on eggshells at the moment, you are."

Mike could hear Billie growl in frustration from the other end. "I don't need your counselling sessions now, Mike. Just tell me why the fuck you called."

Mike huffed. "Fine. Are you invited to Helena Way's funeral?"

Mike expected him to be, so he wasn't surprised when Billie made and "uh huh" sound into the phone.

"Seriously?"

"Jesus Christ Mike. Why would I lie?"

Mike shook his head. "Sorry. It's just that Tré wasn't."

Mike thought he could hear Billie chuckle. "I know, but who would invite him, right? He's got the maturity of a two-year-old, and he like, never spoke to Helena, like, ever."

"Hey." A streak of anger slithered through Mike's gut. "Don't speak about Tré like that, he's our mate. If you have an issue with him, say it to his face."

Billie snorted. "Whatever. But I'm not going to the funeral."

Mike was flabbergasted. "Uh, why not?"

"Because." he heard Billie say, resigned. "I haven't talked to her since '94. Sure she was pretty, but she was taken and a real quiet one. I see no point."

Mike scoffed. "What? You see no point cause you never got lucky enough to get in her pants? Come on Billie…."

Billie sniggered. "Yeah. Something like that, and you're lucky that you're not on loudspeaker and Adrienne can't hear you. But no, I'm not going. I have this weirdly bad feeling about it, y'know?"

"Bad feeling Billie? Are you serious?" Mike didn't say that he was having similar thoughts.

"Yep. Something's up with Helena's death. I can feel it. It's weird, like she's still around, but like a ghost or something. Like she's haunting us all." his voice took on a fearful tone, like he was genuinely afraid of something.

Mike's heart stopped. Could Billie see the Deathwalkers as well? He thought he was the only one. "What do you mean Billie?" he asked, his voice trembling.

Billie sighed. "It's nothing. I'm sorry for even bringing it up, but this whole funeral thing so late from the death is a bit strange to me. Not to mention those guys are holding it in the middle of the damned night."

Mike was at a loss for words for a few seconds as he processed what his best friend had just told him. In the end, he settled with a plea for Billie. "Well then can you at least come with me, so I have someone I actually know there?" he asked desperately, but Billie only snorted.

"What? And leave this woman rabid in the house with my kids?" He laughed bitterly. "I don't think so. Have a good time, Mike."

"Be careful about what you say to Adrienne. She's a friend of mine, you know."

"I am a friend of yours as well, Pritchard." Billie countered.

Mike scowled. "But I'd be the first to tell Adrienne if you were doing something kinky or wrong behind her back, Billie. Just know that."

Billie snarled. "Just what are you implying, you little fuck-face?"

Mike sighed, knowing he'd been successful in ticking Billie Joe off once again. "Nothing dude, nothing at all."

"I hope not. Well, I'll catch you at band practice, and remember to say hi to Helena for me." Mike could almost see his revolting wink through the phone before he hung up.

"She's dead, you creep!" Mike attempted to yell into the phone, but Billie Joe was gone.

He was worried about Billie. His best friend was getting harder and harder to talk to every day.

"Well, I guess it's just me tonight, then." Mike said out loud to himself. He had the courtesy to ring Britt - his wife - telling her that he'd be out that night at a high school friend's funeral. She was spending the evening with Jason White and family, another of Mike's friends and back-up band members, so she would be home later.

He and Britt had complete faith and trust in each other, their relationship growing stronger and stronger by the day, it seemed. She believed him in a split second when he told her, not thinking for a second he was going out to some girl's house, which of course he wasn't. It's what Mike loved about their relationship. It was just them, and that's more than he needed.

He only wished he could be assured of the same thing with Adrienne and Billie Joe, but he just didn't know anymore.

Mike daydreamed about Britt a lot, her perfect blonde hair and determined, hard-core personality, and he found himself wandering the halls of his house quite aimlessly after he came to his senses eventually. It took him a moment to remember that there was in fact a funeral that was taking place in about four hours and he was expected to dress nicely for such an event. He knew it would take a while to fish out some appropriate attire from his wardrobe underneath layers and layers of stage outfits and tracksuits, so he set to work early in a search to find a suit, tie, and if he was lucky, an old bottle of cologne.


	7. Part 2 - Chapter 2

Frank Iero was usually a bubbly sort of person, always wearing a smile. Mike had met him a few times through Helena, and all the time Frank would wear some sort of a grin. Helena, on the other hand, was more of a quiet, shy girl who chose to speak only at the times it was needed most and sit at the back of class.

Which is why, as Mike approached the group of black-clad guests mingling outside the service hall, he did a double-back when he saw Frank's eyes, all red and puffy, and his mouth scrunched into an ugly frown.

Why hadn't he known of Helena's death before the invite for the funeral?

Mike began to make his way up to Frank, who was chatting to Helena's widowed husband Mikey Way and a family friend of the Way's and Iero's, Ray Toro. Mike breathed a sigh of relief. He liked Ray. He was a little less Goth and a little more at ease than the rest of the people here.

But before he could reach Ray (who had become a kind of safe haven in Mike's eyes) he felt a forceful tapping on his shoulder blade, refusing to give in. Mike turned, to come face to face with Gerard Way, who so happened to be Mikey Way's older brother.

_So many people._

"Hello Michael." Gerard said in an airy voice. Mike didn't like the presence Gerard gave. He was an extremely intense sort of person, and Mike could only be reminded of the day him and Billie found him in the classroom all those years ago. He didn't really have any friends and always came across as the sort of person who would believe in all the ghost and vampire stories everyone was told as children.

"Hi, Gerard." Mike said politely. "And please, call me Mike. Michael makes me sound old."

Gerard let a flicker of a smile show on his face. "Okay. And just to let you know, I invited you here tonight. You might be wondering why."

Mike raised his eyebrows. Why would Gerard want to have him here? He was only Helena's bother-in-law. "I was wondering, actually. I heard you invited Billie Joe as well. He couldn't make it tonight, by the way."

Gerard nodded. "Yes I know, I figured he wouldn't. You'll see eventually why I told you to come. I'll be directing the sermon today, as a matter of fact."

Mike was surprised. "Oh really? I didn't know you were a priest."

Gerard shook his head and chuckled. "I'm not. Helena wanted a private ceremony. She was, along with the rest of us here, an atheist to the highest degree. I hope you don't mind."

Mike shook his head. "Not at all. Anyway, I should be greeting Mikey and Frank now. It was good talking to you Gerard."

"And I you." he replied. "And remember, lift your head during the prayer."

Mike was stunned. "I… lift… what?"

Gerard just shook his head before looking at Mike pointedly and walking away to talk to some other Goth-looking people.

"Weird." Mike muttered, before heading over to where Frank, Mikey and Ray were chatting.

Ray, as usual, was the first to notice Mike's presence. "Hey man. I didn't know you were coming." Mike shook his hand and turned to Frank. He was giving Mike a grim little smile, while Mikey Way wore a look of confusion.

Frank turned to Mikey. "Gerard invited him." and then he leaned into Mikey's ear and whispered something, which made the younger Way brother's expression come to one of dawning realisation.

Mike raised an eyebrow at them. "Is there something I'm not getting here?" he asked.

Mikey shook his head. "You'll find out in good time."

Ray and Mike shared an incredulous look. Ray shrugged. Something was going on here, and Mike (and Ray) were not a part of it. It made him irritated. But eventually, sensing tension, he turned his attention back to the entire group, eager to switch the subject.

"How are you going?" he asked both Mikey and Frank at the same time, sure to put the right amount of sympathy in his voice. Mikey just shook his head and frowned, and Frank gave a sad smile and looked at the ground. "I'm okay I guess. I mean, she was my twin sister, and I loved her. I'm just not sure what to do now."

"Well, you always have us." Ray said, smiling beneath the shadow of his wild chestnut afro. Mike inwardly grinned at his achievement of changing the subject so smoothly.

But he still had a bad feeling about this funeral.

When the crowd was ushered inside the hall, Mike's heart was pounding painfully in his chest.

Gerard Way looked out of place on the stage behind the lectern. There were coloured Churchy windows behind him, and it clashed rather comically with his greasy black hair, dark clothes and sunken eyes. He looked like he belonged at the gateway to hell rather than a Catholic hall used for funerals. He was glaring at everyone who took a seat from the stage, and he had motioned for Mike to sit at the back row with Ray, God knows why.

Mikey Way, Frank and the rest of the Iero family were seated at the front of the hall, and Mike could just see them all shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

This must be quite a night for all of them.

Mike wondered why Gerard had wanted him at the back, and he was also puzzling over the command he had given him before they were ushered inside. _"And remember, lift your head during the prayer."_

Mike didn't know what to expect by this, but human curiosity was a master no one in the world could either deny nor refuse.

Ray was twiddling his thumbs absentmindedly and not looking like he wasted to speak, so Mike looked up at the stage. Helena's coffin was open, but Mike didn't want to go up and see the girl's dead face with his own eyes. He wasn't that dark of a person. Gerard kept on looking inside it every thirty seconds as if she was going to suddenly disappear, and most of the other guests went up to see her body before they sat down.

Mike couldn't. He may not have known Helena Way well, but her regal cheekbones and haunting grey eyes were not something he would want to see of a corpse. A person he knew was dead, and that in itself was almost too much for him to handle, let alone actually seeing her rigid body, draped in some kind of a pretty dress.

But why would Helena Iero's dead body be rotting in a coffin at this moment? How did she die? Why did she die, and why didn't Mike know about it before earlier today?

It was beyond him.

And yet it was not his mystery to solve.

So he followed Gerard with his eyes and tried not to think about the body resting in a box thirty metres in front of his seat. It was hard not to since Gerard was peering into it constantly from the stage, a nervous frown on his face. Mike never tried to understand him, as Billie had accomplished all those years ago. He always seemed to be strange and living in his own private world; shutting out people who tried to get close to him. The only people Mike knew were close to Gerard were Frank Iero and Mikey. He was the most closed off sort of person Mike ever hoped to meet, and just talking to Gerard made him feel uncomfortable.

Gerard was wearing eye makeup of some kind, Mike had noticed this when he had approached him before they had entered the hall. Even in the dim lights that attempted dismally to brighten up the night air outside, Mike could see the hollow sockets around Gerard's eyes when they spoke. Now, in the blinding neon lights inside the hall, it made him look like a character out of some sort of a horror movie.

Gerard was now trying to shush the seated with sleights of his hands and failing whispers; which were obviously not succeeding in the least. Mike felt sorry for him and wanted to help, but he felt it was hardly his place to yell out to a crowd of gothic people he barely knew at a funeral. As far as he knew, a funeral was more sacred to these people than Christmas eve Mass.

But apparently Gerard did not worry about such boundaries. He appeared to quickly lose his temper at the lack of cooperation of the crowd and yelled "SHUT THE HELL UP!" in a voice that surprised Mike; a voice that was equally as strong as Billie Joe's. Only a little higher in pitch.

Mike idly wondered if Gerard had yelled like that to the class before he shot all of them.

Unsurprisingly, everyone did shut the hell up.

As Gerard now had everyone's full attention, he gave a smug little smile before shuffling quite ungracefully up to the lectern. He tapped a microphone he how held and grinned before bringing it so close to his lips he looked like he was going to eat it. Strange. Mike thought only Billie Joe did that.

He almost felt as if Gerard was being like a second Billie Joe, and it creeped him out.

"Hello everyone." Gerard said, his voice back to it's airy, soft tone and his smile faded off his face by now. People nodded their head in greeting; a few raised their hands.

"As you all know, my very own sister-in-law and very good friend Helena Way passed away a little over a month ago, and we are all here tonight to celebrate her life together. She was only young - twenty four to be precise, and she asked for either my brother Mikey or I to host this ceremony. Since we have all agreed Mikey is hardly in a fit position to host this tonight…." Gerard gave Mikey a look, and Mike could clearly see the sympathy in his eyes even from his seat at the back.

"I will be taking the ceremony." Gerard finished. Most of the people nodded and there was a slight buzz of conversation that lasted a mere few seconds. Mike looked up at Gerard politely, who was allowing the chatter to take place patiently as he shifted from foot to foot behind the lectern.

Once the noise had ceased again, Gerard gave a sigh. "For those who don't know, Helena Way was stabbed five times according to the number of wounds we found on the body. We don't know who did it, we only wish we did. We wish this more than anything else in the world. We also wish to find whoever did and bring them to justice as they deserve. They deserve to be…."

Mike zoned out after that. He supposed Gerard's speech would be filled with interesting fantasies of gore and death to Helena's supposed murderer. The fact she was murdered made the situation all the more creepy for Mike; there was a feeling in his gut that was telling him something about Helena's death was not right.

Mike was good at zoning out; because there were so many other things going on in his life at the moment, especially because he was a famous rock star, that he could think about. Gerard was making some sort of a hand gesture that resembled someone tearing meat with their hands, and his eerily sharp teeth were bared slightly, so Mike didn't make an effort to tune in to his speech.

His mind wandered to Billie. They had known each other since they were ten, and had been inseparable since. Mike had been the one to comfort Billie when he was dealing with his father's death. Mike had been the perfect friend in those times, since he had never known his real parents at all.

Mike remembered when they used to go to hospitals and play music for all the sick children when they were teenagers. Billie would always be a favourite with them, since he was the best singer. He used to smile so much back then, but now Mike barely knew what Billie Joe's smile looked like.

Something happened when the pair of them were eighteen; just after they released their first studio album, that made Billie stopped smiling. It was before he met Adrienne, so Mike knew it wasn't her that was bringing his friend down.

If that was the case, maybe he wouldn't feel so sorry for Adrienne with all that Billie Joe was putting her through at the moment. They would be constantly fighting, and Mike knew that Billie was the tormenter in most of these situations. He knew him well.

It could have been when John had decided to leave the band without telling Mike and him. They had found out via only someone else. Billie had become bitter during this time, and had returned the favour to John by not telling him that they were replacing the John with Tré. Ever since that day, he had become another person. Mike still loved him more than anyone else in the world, but he was a drag to speak to. A pain to.

Mike had yet to figure just what was wrong with Billie. Why he had suddenly become so closed off that day. He doubted it was only because of John's departure. Besides, the band had Tré now, and he was at least three times the drummer John was.

There was something more to it, Mike was sure.

He just didn't know what.

Mike tuned his attention back to Gerard, who was by now finished his explicit revenge story and was talking in great detail about Helena's life. He was really rambling on, since there was only twenty-two years of life to talk about. Mostly he spoke about her love of heavy rock music and ballet; a strange combination in Mike's opinion.

"And as all of you probably saw; she shall be buried wearing her favourite dress and ballet shoes, as stated in her will. There is no doubt that Helena had a wonderful life, filled with friends, family and love…." he bowed his head respectfully. "And it is for this reason that she denied neither her family nor Mikey to 'waste their time' with a speech in her name. She said it would be silly for you to waste tears when she believes these celebrations should be private and happy." Gerard gave another pointed look to Mikey and Frank, who Mike supposed were both crying. Mike stole a glance toward Ray beside him, who was looking down at his hands like he had been from the beginning, a passive expression on his face.

"And now we'd like you all to close your eyes in prayer. I know Helena and most of us here are atheists, but I think it will be a good time for each and every one of you to reflect on the life of this amazing girl tonight."

After Gerard said that, he looked directly into Mike's eyes. Gerard's own held such an intensity that Mike almost doubled back. There was a glint of something unnatural swimming around in their depths that Mike could clearly see even from the distance at which he was sitting.

Everyone bowed their heads low and closed their eyes. Even Ray. But Mike looked up at Gerard, just like he was told to.

He may have been punk, but he was going to follow instructions if his curiosity was on a big enough high.

Gerard lowered his head and closed his eyes from behind the lectern as soon as he saw Mike was watching. He placed his hands together in front of his chest in prayer position and seemed to tense up really rigid, before he began to shake. Extremely violently. He was trembling like he was naked in the Antarctic, but he stayed in the same prayer position all the while.

Mike stared to freak out. He contemplated going up to Gerard to try and help him. He looked like he was having a panic attack. Mike's heart was beating fast. He was scared for Gerard, but he could feel something strange was happening in the room.

There was a presence; a feeling he only sometimes felt.

Then, when Mike was just about to get up off his seat and go to Gerard, said man started singing in a jagged, haunting voice voice that sounded like it should be coming from a person being possessed by some kind of a Satanic being. Gerard lowered his head so his fingertips were touching his nose, and he squeezed his eyes as tight as they could go as he sang.

_"Can you hear me?_

_Are you near me?_

_Can we pretend_

_To leave? And then_

_We'll meet again_

_When both our cars collide"_

He sang the last line epically, in a voice that rivalled Billie's. Mike didn't expect it at all, and would have to commend Gerard on that later.

Mike looked around frantically, expecting everyone in the hall to be looking at Gerard with as much concern as he was. But everyone was staring at their laps, supposedly in prayer. Mike looked at Ray; even he was looking down and silent. Mike poked him lightly in the side, but he didn't even budge. It was like the world had been put on freeze, and he and Gerard were the only ones awake.

But what Mike really was not expecting was what happened next.

Out of the coffin behind where Gerard was standing emerged a stunningly beautiful girl with huge grey eyes, white skin and rosy lips. She was wearing an intricate formal dress woven of black and red lace and she was holding a bunch of red roses. On her feet were a pair of black ballet shoes that tied a little way up her leg.

It was Helena.

And Mike had gone extremely pale as he gulped, terrified, in his seat.

He knew what she was.

Gerard was repeating the song over and over as he continued to tremble on his feet, but Mike wasn't noticing this anymore. He was too busy staring at Helena dancing on her toes closer and closer to where Mike was sitting. She wasn't looking at anything in particular, just tip-toeing gracefully forwards and moving her arms around herself just like a swan would.

She was mesmerising.

But just before she reached Mike she stopped. Her expression turned from relaxed to petrified as she seemed to see something right in front of her that wasn't really there. Mike now knew what was going on. All Deathwalkers simulated their deaths before they left the world forever. It was something that always happened.

Helena's eyes widened and her mouth made the shape of an 'O' as her invisible attacker approached her. Then, she doubled back and clutched her stomach as she screamed silently.

Deathwalkers can't make noise.

Another blow was to her left shoulder, and another to her right. Gerard said she was stabbed five times.

By this time, Helena was on the floor and shaking almost as much as Gerard, and if this was Mike's first time at seeing a Deathwalker, he would have looked away by now. But he didn't. He couldn't. He was grossly fascinated by this.

The fourth blow was to Helena's stomach again, and Mike was thankful Deathwalkers didn't bleed. He would have been sick otherwise. He was seeing Helena's death right now. Every detail aside from the blood, guts, screams and attacker.

The fifth blow hit Helena in her hand, which confused Mike because she still seemed very much alive, and the hand was definitely not a fatal point. She was still flailing around on the ground and sobbing quietly.

Her silent cries were what made Mike's heart twang.

Helena was acting as if someone was on top of her, holding her down. Then, her face contorted horribly as she became limp and numb. She moved up and down in a paced rhythm and her face showed one of pure excruciating pain, and Mike knew by this exactly what had happened to her. Exactly what the attacker had done. Helena was crying, and Mike felt he was going to start himself at any moment.

This was the hardest part so far for Mike to witness. What sick bastard could have done such a thing to an innocent young woman?

Once the invisible attacker had finished that, Mike saw an unknown force brush Helena's hair from her neck, but he barely saw the small hole appear on the side of her throat. An injection. How could the investigators have missed this? How could they have surpassed the poison that was in the blood of Helena's body? All Mike knew was that the small hole in her neck was the straw that broke the camel's back. Helena went rigid and her eyes went wide after the hole was made, and that's also when Gerard stopped singing. Helena's Deathwalker faded away slowly into nothingness and Mike released a breath he didn't realise he was holding as everyone else in the room seemed to wake up from their trance.

They all looked normal. Solemn, but normal.

Mike looked carefully up at Gerard to find he was smirking at him. Mike felt anger build up inside him. He had obviously done this on purpose. But still, there was a small list of questions that formed in Mike's mind as to the whole past situation.

How the hell did Gerard summon Helena's Deathwalker? Did he have some kind of ability, like Mike had one to see them?

How did Gerard know that Mike could see Deathwalkers? I mean, he obviously did seeing as the look he was giving Mike right now. No one, not even Billie, knew of his ability.

Why did Gerard invite Billie, if this was the reason he invited Mike? Could Billie see Deathwalkers as well? Mike's mind wandered to their phone call before the funeral; and how Billie had sensed the same discomfort about the funeral as Mike had. Was it possible?

Why did Gerard do what he did? Why did he purposely bring Helena back so she could simulate her death in front of Mike? Why had Gerard wanted him to see this?

And, most pressingly, why wasn't Mike strangling Gerard up on the stage right now for making him sit through that experience?

The answer to the last one was easy. There were too many witnesses. But soon the ceremony would be over and no one would be around. Mike wasn't sure he could refrain from killing the guy when and if they were caught in a situation alone tonight.


End file.
